


Gorgeous

by dt01



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 15:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15488565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dt01/pseuds/dt01
Summary: They do it on the TARDIS console.





	Gorgeous

**Author's Note:**

> Eeeeeyyy, Ten/Simm!Master porn! I've got at least two more sexy fics of them coming up because let me tell you, this pairing is severely lacking in good quality hot fics that don't have something to do with like... hardcore bdsm or dub-con. If that's your thing you do you, but it's never been mine so I took matters into my own hands.  
> (Though I suppose this one could be considered very mildly dub-conish with the whole TARDIS thing, but that's as dark as it's gonna get for me, even if I put violent aspects into a fic the sex will always be consensual and I will probably never write hardcore bdsm.)  
> Having said that, this is a dark pairing so there's always gotta be a little something-something, or edge to it, in my opinion so don't expect OOC fluffy bunnies and rainbows.  
> Also, sorry, no backstory, I'm not too good at long plotty porn so please feel free to fill in any blanks with your own imagination.  
> And also no beta.  
> That's it. Please enjoy! Peace out!

 

They do it on the TARDIS console. Clothes thrown haphazardly across the expanse of the room, hanging in odd places off the architecture of the place. He is bent forwards and over, gasping.

The Master tries to keep his hands on the bare spots of it, the places without levers and buttons and screens, but the Doctor is rolling and screwing his hips forwards, _forwards_ , and the Master is pushing, _pushing,_ back against them. His hands slipping and sliding all over the damn thing beneath the onslaught of relentless ecstasy. It’s so human. A primal physicalization of the dance they’ve been executing throughout space-time over centuries. And if there’s one thing those apes got right it’s all the dirty dirty things a body can get up to. It’s a fucking bastardization of Time Lord coupling and it’s-

 _It’s gorgeous,_ the Master thinks.

The Doctor hears him and laughs, shoves in just that bit harder, runs his hand slowly down the Master’s torso, from where it’s been gripping hard at his neck. He scratches at the Master’s chest hair and flicks a nipple. The Master gasps, he “ah!” shatters under the attention.

“I told you. You underestimate them. You hate that they hold my attentions but you’ve always been a sucker for my peer pressure Master. Every time, when I lead you to something as pretty and twisted as all this, fucking you up the arse with my cock. Shoving against you, hands on your body, licking at the salt skin taste of your sweat. Oh, you _like_ it. You _adore_ it.” The Doctor’s laugh is dark and rich, like his eyes this time ‘round, like his soul always. It rips through the Master like a vortex, like the black fucking hole the Doctor really is.

The TARDIS doesn’t like what they’re doing. She doesn’t like it one bit. She’s groaning instead of crooning, she’s wailing instead of sighing. They’re hurting her and the Doctor still isn’t stopping.

“So good,” the Master says.

The Doctor grips his hip bones and drives forward, then he pulls almost all the way out, leaves only the tip of his leaking cock pressed just there, inside the Master. He pauses, takes a stuttering breath that zings through the Master and goes straight to his cock, before thrusting in again. He gives a few short sharp jabs, before he’s shoving full forwards again, deep, deep-

_So deep._

Deep inside once more.

“God, it’s so fucking good.”

“Yeah,” whispers the Doctor. He places one hand over the Master’s where it’s fallen on a  big blue lever, grips it tight and mouths hotly at the Master’s jaw. “Yeah, it is.”

There are no hands on the Master’s cock, just the cold brush of the console up against it. He doesn’t need hands though, less than three stunning rhythmic thrusts later and he’s pouring wet, thick, _burning,_ over all the beautiful buttons and levers he was pointlessly trying so hard not to touch. It’s hot as hell beside the knowledge that the TARDIS hates him for it, and he moans and giggles, breath hitching on each inhale, until the spasms finally taper off.

“Don’t worry baby,” he whispers to it on gasping breath, smiling so wide. “You’ll learn to love the way it hurts!”

“Don’t talk to her,” the Doctor snaps as he wraps an arm full length around the Master’s chest and fucks, fucks, fucks, into him. So desperate to get himself off. The Master laughs. He laughs long and hard, that flawless maniacal laugh that just sings through his blood.

And the Doctor is coming.

_Master. F-fuck..._

He buries his face in Master’s shoulder, gnaws at it, and whimpers those shaky little sounds he makes every time he spills over. He keeps thrusting as he keeps coming. The Master moans, shoving back against the waves of climax eagerly.

When he's finally finished, and they've both stilled, as they stand there panting the Master turns his head just slightly. 

“Oh Doctor," he stage whispers. "I do think we've upset her.”

This time when the Doctor bites at his shoulder, it's definitely painful.


End file.
